[i]A whiff of alcohol reaches the noses of Tamra, Charlie, and Arnold as the three rag-tag men step forward to meet the challengers, the spirits perhaps impairing their judgement on the wisdom of a battle.  

[color=f26522]"Send these festerin scally wags to swim with the fishes, lads!"[/color] The words weren't even all the way out of his mouth when one that had woken first lunged past the trap door and straight toward Tamra, attempting to close the distance before she could work whatever magic she was conjuring, sword swinging wildly.  

Meanwhile, the one on the left, a large brute with a mangy beard and balding head, barreled toward Charlie, shoulder first, simply attempting to knock him back over the battlement and into the sea.   

The third, a gaunt man who looked like he'd missed more than a few meals, but surprisingly quick on his feet, sprung at Arnold, thrusting his blade toward the cleric's mace hand.[/i]